Flaggernaut & Flaggabeaner

Of all the things you do and places you go in a single day there is rarely a time and place more suitable for spotting flag-worthy behavior than in your car. Although you may be flying past cars and pedestrians at fast speeds, the prudent and observant driver still has the chance to notice things like: the guy picking his nose in his Saturn, the blank stares of the people waiting for the bus, and the crack-whore at the street corner beating her sweater against the concrete because a/the crack on/in the pavement caused her to trip and drop her fried chicken.

Flag No. 1:

If I am able to notice these things, you should at least be able to notice the gigantic pothole that your car just crashed into. What is it with people who appear to just not try and avoid potholes? Why would you just fucking barrel your body and automobile through time and space without a care in the world? Why hit the pothole when you can easily avoid it? Seriously, what is the motivation here? I mean, I understand that prudent drivers can't go swerving around the road to miss every pothole they see - but at the same time, if you can't sacrifice that menial amount of brainpower to be alert enough to move your steering wheel a quarter of an inch to the right to avoid a veritable raping of your auto's undercarriage at the behest of the pavement, then you should not be permitted to drive (or have children). If you can't tear yourself away from the perfect (not so) rendition of "she bangs-she bangs" that you're belting like Susan Boyle from the driver-seat of your hatchback for two fucking seconds to maybe glance at fucking road in front of you, then I suggest you take a trip to the DMV (Discretely Molested Vagina - YOURS! Get it!?... No, me neither).

The point here is that you should at least safely try to avoid potholes... I mean, what are you fucking made of money so that you don't care that every 3 months your mechanic tells you that you need new tires/axles/etc...? Even if you are made of money (which I doubt, you fucking welfare-Flaggot), why subject your own body's undercarriage (you know, the balls and shit [i.e. "junk"]) to all the bouncing around of dropping your Miata into a sloppy road slit?

Whatever... just learn to drive.


Flag No. 2:

If you park inside of a gated parking lot which opens via "key-fob" (i.e. the little gray thing that remotely activates the swinging gate when you waive it next to the reader), you are a fucking psychopath not to spare the $0.99 that it takes to invest in a carabiner (you know, the things that mountain-climbers use to fasten themselves to the sides of mountains, and college students use to fasten their keys to the empty belt loop of their corduroys... speaking of which --> that's a Flag... I mean, who the fuck doesn't wear a belt!?). The point here is that when you pull up to the front of the gate, you know you're going to have to waive your fob by the reader to get the door to open... Why then would you permanently attach the fob to your big set of keys so that you have to turn off your car like a dumbass just to be able to reach your shapeless arm out of the window, activate the gate, insert the key back into the ignition, turn your car back on, and park before taking your Chipotle up to your room to watch a Tivo'd rerun of Top Chef?

The smart person just buys a fucking carabiner so that when they pull up to the gate, you just unhook the fob, activate the gate and be on your merry way (in this hypo, instead of Chipotle you have Korean Barbecue, and instead of watching Top Chef you watch two hookers fight over the Korean Barbecue). To do it any other way is just ludicrous and hence, flag-worthy. You know what, while writing this, I've decided that I feel so sorry for your stupid ass that I will buy you a carabiner and send it to you "FOB" --> Flag on Board, destination retard.

Enjoy Top Chef (oh, and Casey gets voted off tonight).

Knowledge (in the Biblical Sense) Flag

Don't know how many of you watch True Blood, but I do not. I make it a habit not to watch many TV shows in the summer, because:
A) I'm not a vampire and therefore have the ability to go outside,
B) If I am home I watch baseball and
C) If these shows were any good they would not be on in the summer. (And fuck you, I don't care if it is HBO it's still TV.)

I want to give a Red Flag to just about anything popular involving vampires...but vampires SHOULD by all accounts be totally kick-ass. From what I know about True Blood, it's basically a soap opera with soft-core porn scenes...so soft-core porn. I'll take it. Then they threw this scene out there, where the guy vampire hate-fucks some chick vampire and rips her head backwards and continues screwing her, it's totally brutal. In Toy Story, this is Mr. Potato head ripping Mrs. Potato Head's lips off before some of that good 'tater lovin'. (NOTE: avoid obvious potato "head" joke...dammit.)

I don't know what to flag here. The writers? I can't flag that kind of hate...Can I give them the first ever Flagornot "Extreme Hate Award"? Do I have to make up some kind of picture for an award now? I think I have a full blown hate-on (hate-boner? hate-pole? hate-rection. Definitely hate-rection). Since I cannot possibly flag this kind of impressive hatred. I will flag the woman behind (not in-front-of-with-her-head-turned-backwards awesome imaginary combination of necrophilia and "coitus more ferarum" ) of the series.
Charlaine Harris.

Seriously. This entire series was adapted from romance novels written by this backwoods Arkansas shut-in who spent hours upon hours writing about vampires doin' it. ("The vampires, they don't-a "do it"...they make-a-love.")

She seriously looks like a McNugget Buddy.

I vant to flag your knowledge of sex and relationships Ms. McNugget...

Go ahead, defend your flaggable obsession with vampires, lonely shut-ins.

(By the way, "Potato Head" would totally be an Irish sexual position if the Irish were allowed to do anything but create pale children in the missionary position)

Feng Shui Flag

Until we can figure out how to use those three shells from Demolition Man (he doesn't know how to use the three shells!), we are at the mercy of toilet paper. As a daily necessity, there are a myriad of questions I feel I need to ask about this shit (Wordplay!). Roll or Fold? Overhand or underhand? Do you even look? Does the pointed toilet paper strip at a hotel really make you feel any more comfortable in that probably filthy blood/urine/semen soaked room? (It does, doesn't it? "Oh look how cute the toilet paper is, they really truly do care, they even looked at the tiniest details!")

So what's the three most important attributes of a toilet paper roll? Location. Location. Location. I do not mean, where in the house the bathroom is located. I mean where in the bathroom the toilet paper is located. You may think I am lazy, but I dare you to not get frustrated after reaching around behind you to your left to get the requisite amounts of ass cleaners. Toilet paper rolls need to be within arms reach and on the right. Anywhere else is flaggable. Straight across so you have to lean forward and reach for the papes, absolutely not. Behind the toilet on the right or left? I hope you die in a horrific interior designing catastrophe. I don't care if your shower is right next to your toilet on the right and you physically cannot place the toilet paper there, it had better be in close quarters and I'm STILL going to hate you for the placement. If your roll is broke and you need to put it on top of the back, fine, because I can move it, but you need to get your shit fixed you lazy bastard. And while I'm on the topic, you better have a spare roll in arms reach. Even though I make it my business to make an assessment of the situation before I do my business, I'd still like to see a contingency plan in place.

And I do not care if you are Ned Flanders with your own leftorium. I have no regard for lefties. They are the minority and in my mind, not ridiculed nearly enough. You are living in a right handed world. Deal with it! Adapt or die. Just thinking of attempting to wipe my ass with my left hand makes me want to take a shower. Not because it would be difficult and my left hand is essentially useless, but because the thought of the "Sinister Stranger" near my most sensitive of areas makes me feel dirty...

Flag it up, flush it down.

A Companion Piece to 'Flagship'

Fellow Haters,

Thanks to social media, we live in a world that makes it incredibly easy for us to catch up with old friends and distant relatives. Websites like Facebook and Twitter allow us to give them birthday greetings, see photos of their pets, and watch their child’s dance recital. It’s really wonderful, isn’t it?

However, there is a dark side to social media—and that dark side comes in the form of the creepy, anti-social guy (or gal) that you haven’t spoken to since high school and who is taking advantage of your pity acceptance of their friend request to stalk the shit out of you on said websites. That is not cool. That is not acceptable. These people deserve to be flagged so that other ordinary people who abide by customary social norms can avoid them.

Here is some background information: several months to a year or so ago, I received Facebook friend requests from two unrelated gentlemen that I went to high school with. I hardly spoke to either one of them during high school, but in the spirit of friendship and school spirit (Go Bears!) I accepted both of their friend requests. I even allowed one of them to follow me on Twitter. I now regret my decisions.

You see, since I accepted those friend requests and such, I have been stalked to within an inch of my life.
Perhaps not literally stalked, in the John-Hinckley-Jr. “I’m-going-to-shoot-Reagan-to-impress-Jodie-Foster” sense of the word, but both of these gentlemen will NOT leave me alone.

One gentleman (lets call him Freak #1) never ceases to post nerd humor-related links on my Facebook wall. (Disclaimer: I am a nerd. I enjoy Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Back to Future, Indiana Jones, etc. etc.) What bothers me is that this person thinks that because we were both geeks in high school and we both enjoy nerdy things, that we’re pop-culture soulmates. That we complete each other. That if he only had the guts to pull a Lloyd Dobler in high school and stood outside my bedroom window, hoisted a boom box and blared Peter Gabriel, that we would be together today and I’d be his date to a Cosplay convention. Note: this is not me being egotistical. He once cornered me on Facebook chat and asked me how I thought my life would be different if I had dumped my high school sweetheart and dated him. I promptly logged off. Yeahhhhhh, that was never going to happen, even back then when I had braces and listened to Third Eye Blind. I knew you were a freak when you would magically show up to my friends’ parties, despite no one ever fucking inviting you. In fact, we took great pains to keep those parties from you, because inevitably, you'd show up, stand in the corner and stare at the real humans having fun. It was like you had a police scanner and would listen in to our phone conversations to find out where we’d be.

The other gentleman (let’s call him Freak #2) follows me on Twitter. And when I say follow, I fucking mean follow. Nary a tweet goes by without his fucking stalker having something to say about it. If I happen to mention what movie I’m watching, I will inevitably get a reply from him containing an Ebert-esque critique of the movie I’m enjoying. Or, he will gush to me about how happy he is that I’m watching a particular TV show because no one else could POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND the subtle nuances of that show like him and I. Freak #2, you’re not Ebert. I don’t give a fuck what you have to say. In fact, I wish you were Ebert, because you wouldn’t have a fucking voicebox. Nah, scratch that. I wish you were Siskel because then you’d be fucking dead.

Freak #1 and #2, we are not soulmates. We are not even friends. We are acquaintances at best. Because I friended on you on Facebook or allowed you to follow me on Twitter, doesn’t mean that we have a relationship in the real world. In fact, perhaps you should get off your fucking computer and join the real world. To me (and every other normal person on the planet) social media supplants your existing relationships. It doesn’t create them.

And another thing Freak #2, stop sending me links to your blogs, Tumblrs, Formsprings, or any other website you abuse so you can feel like more of an individual. I’m so fucking sick of reading about your unique take on the world, what art film you’re currently watching, or what pop musician whose music you’re panning. Haven't you noticed that NO ONE comments on your "cry for help" Facebook statuses? You’re not unique. You’re not special. You’re just every other unemployed fucktard out there who would rather crap his time away on the Internet than pick up a newspaper and scan the want ads. Oh and memo to Freak #2, Gondry and Soderbergh aren’t going to see your shittily-edited student film on Vimeo and offer you your own film to direct. Give up the dream. Get yourself down to The Container Store or Cracker Barrel (order me a sweet tea and country vegetable plate while you're there), and fill out a job application. You’ll thank me later.

Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Freak #1. I do not understand your unique plight. I do not WANT to understand your unique plight. I have a significant other, and I suggest you work on finding your own. I hear they’re still accepting submissions at SociallyAwkwardShutInsLookingForOtherSociallyAwkwardShutIns.com.



These people deserve to be flagged. They need to be flagged, so others can avoid them like the way job offers avoid a non-Alec Baldwin brother. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have about half a dozen Dune-related posts to delete from my Facebook wall and some people to block on Twitter.

Flagship. (The U.S.S. Revenge-Hate)

As is often the case, some of the most flag-worthy conduct is also the most flagrant... In fact, some of the most flag-worthy conduct is so flag-worthy directly because it is so utterly flagrant.

Case in point: flagrant ignorance or perhaps (and even worse) flagrant disobedience of the RULES which bind this society together. The rules of which I speak are those which separate man from beast, wheat from chafe, and dinosaur bones from retarded fish frog. These are the rules which most of us know and love. For instance, not talking during a movie, not bogarting the last beer from a neighbor's fridge, and not asking me for change outside of my building. Of these rules, there is of course the rule, or perhaps the duty, to know your role in what I will call the "friendship spectrum."

Friendship Spectrum: (noun) Between two people, the grey area, or degrees of friendship, on the scale between "Casual Acquaintances" at one end, and "Triple-Uber-Bromigosabes" on the other. [From the Latin "to friendspect shiptscrum. Related to the light spectrum (i.e. ROYGBIV), only no colors, just shades of grey, moving from light to dark because, as we all know, friendship is mostly all Black.] The friendship spectrum contains a vast number of variations in between those two extremes. In fact, all us normal people know that this Spectrum exists - after all, we all use phrases in everyday language like "she and I are pretty good friends," "Yeah, we're kinda friends," or "No, we're not really that good of friends.

Now, the norms (i.e. rules) of society tend to logically dictate that the friend who you could rely on to bail you out of jail after you were arrested for soliciting that Vietnamese boy-girl, would earn him or herself a higher spot on the friendship spectrum than the dick who said he couldn't do it because he was "busy with a brutal game of multiplayer Halo." However, there's no bright-line rule which says that Friend A automatically earns a higher spot than Friend B. This is because Friend B, despite his douchebaggery in not bailing you out of jail, could still be your Bro (B as in Bro-oah), and friend A, who bailed you out, might simply be a FriendLY co-worker who's desperate for attention, and the only reason you had their number in your phone is because they forcibly supplied you with it one Friday evening after work, prefacing it with: "If you want to go to Applebee's later for some poppers, give me a call - my schedule's wide open." The point is that these are norms...

Normally, as the friendship progresses it goes higher on the spectrum (i.e. the friends climb the proverbial "Friendship Ladder" together), onward and upward to the point of ultimate friendship. The friends climb this metaphoric ladder through their common experiences shared, trusts built, secrets kept and stories told. Through these experiences, the friendship level grows, and with the higher level of friend designation comes more rights and responsibilities shared among the friends. I will return to this topic below...

Where the friendship falls on the spectrum is typically dependent upon the words and conduct between the friends - i.e. the stories shared, secrets kept, etc... This logically entails that it is the friends themselves who structure the "friendship," and hence mutually designate where the friendship falls on the Friendship Spectrum. In other words, C can't ever be the one to tell A or B that they are friends with each other... A and B have to figure that out on their own. After all, it is their friendship. However, sometimes one of these "friends" a bit of a dummy and doesn't quite understand (or else chooses to ignore) reality. For instance, in the above example, Friend A (the bailor) might view you (the victim, jailed for your Asian lust) as a better friend than you view them. The same goes for how you might view Friend B... You might think of Friend B as your BEST friend, while Friend B might think of you only as his pot-dealer with which he wants to have as little interaction as possible. In situations like this there is of course no bright-line rule saying that only if Friend A and Friend B "agree" that they are each the "same level" on the Friendship Spectrum (i.e. same rung of the Friendship Ladder) that the friendship actually "exists." In other words, there is no rule that says that only if Friend A considers Friend B to be 82% up the way towards ultimate friendship (BEST friends = 100%), and visa-versa, that there is truly a "meeting of the minds" so that we can call Friend A and Friend B "friends." In fact, we Normals all know that the degree of friendship can change both slightly and drastically over the course of the friendship depending on how the friendship progresses over the years and how the friends handle quarrels, arguments, etc... This type of thing happens all the time. The point here is that you never quite know exactly how a "friend" of yours might view you.

HOWEVER, there are acceptable degrees of certainty and uncertainty here... This is the flag-worthy issue. An rule by which we must all abide if we are going to make this friendship thing work... For example, because Friend 1 didn't return Friend 2's phone call promptly this week, 2 downgrades 1 to only 80% friend, thereby making the likelihood of 2, later in the week, inviting 1 to go to the movies with Friends 3, 4 and 5, only 80% as likely now. In the whole scheme of things, yeah, maybe Friend 2's feelings of the "Friendship Emotion" (i.e. the Friendmotion) went down slightly towards Friend 1, but they are still within roughly the same friendship level that they were at before. Not calling someone back is probably not going to alter the friendship that much. It's not like the missed phone call is going to be the straw the broke the camels back that makes Friend 2 decide not to give Friend 1, the diabetic who craves Nila Wafers, a kidney now. Most normal people in this situation understand that their long-lasting and built up friendship is roughly the same now as it ever was because they had a good idea of where their friendship was before this little incident. This is one of the rules of friendship which apparently needs flagging for some folk.

The rule of which I speak is the rule that you should fucking know if there is a vast disparity between the way you feel about someone and the way the might feel about you. If you don't, you are simply "that guy," and hence need to be flagged for your flag-worthy flagrant conduct of being a Flaggot.

In a civilized society you can't go around asking our friends questions about how they might rate the friendship they have with you. That is weird. You can't ask people hypothetical's to gauge the level of distress you would need to be in before they would be willing to lend you a hand, as a friend. (Question 1: If I needed $100 to keep my bookie from breaking my knees, would you give it to me? Question 2: Can I have $100?) You just can't do that. Why? Because it's one of the unwritten rules of society. That's all. Abide by them if you do not wish to be flagged. Now with this duty comes the duty to not ask your so-called friends to do things which exceed the level of Friendship Duty that they likely feel for you. Again, as I said above, the higher up the ladder the friends go, the more rights and responsibilities that come with the friendship. For example, if your mom dies tomorrow and you feel like you need some emotional support at her funeral you have only certain friends to look to (i.e. who have the responsibility to be there for you in your time of need). You typically look to your girlfriend/spouse, to long-time friends who maybe knew your mom, and to friends who would be comfortable in that type of situation. What do don't do is ask the fucking total-stranger cashier at Starbucks to fly to Minnesota with you in order to act as a corpse-viewing towel that you fucking cry all over for the entire weekend... Again, as you can see there are extremes here... Not every favor is going to be as immense as this one, and not every "friend" is going to be as completely detached as Dylan, the tight-jeaned wearing hipster shoveling the raw sugar into your latte' at the corner coffee shop. The point here is that you should know what level of friendship you are at with someone and what rights and responsibilities come with that level.

How do you know when you might be abusing those rights you think you have with someone you consider a friend? Well, while climbing the rungs of the Friendship Ladder with someone, if the friendship is going well that "Friendship Portrait" (a/k/a the "Diorama of Friendship") is going to be painted/constructed with mutual adventures, shared confidences, common interests, etc... Some of the signs of achievements earned on the "Friendship Report Card" will be more frequent texts/phone calls/invitations, a higher level of shared trust, a willingness to share, etc... All of these lead to a level of conformability between friends that should be recognized by both. If you are one of the many who can't recognize this then my only advice is to GFY --> Go Flag Yourself.

If you are one of the ones who doesn't recognize this perfectly reasonable (and perhaps, absolutely necessary) rule, then allow me to add another "Don't" to your list of "Things to consider or think about before you open your fucking mouth." Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT think that you can call a casual friend out in a group of people for some inane bullshit that your sick fucking mind has manufactured during the down-time in between your "dates" with Grey's Anatomy and Judge Joe Brown, which you apparently think is causing a rift in our "once great friendship." First of all, we are not good friends. We have never been good friends, and never will be good friends. I hate you.

Now for strangers to this story it is as such: I was recently called out in a group of actual friends by this whorish man-pig fake ass trick of a non-friend (who happens to be dating a good friend of mine - let's call him Bill) for the fact that I apparently ignored her when I saw her out at a bar recently. A bar, I might add, that I was at with a group of actual friends. And for the record, I didn't ignore her. I said hello, I made a bit of small talk, and went on my way because again, I came to the bar to chill with a group of actual friends, not to see her. For her to expect anything other than a casual hello and some brief friendly banter is completely uncalled for and flag-worthy. My revenge-hate manifesto is directed square at this fucking flagrant flaggot.

Whatever gave you the idea that our small level of friendship (I would have put it at roughly a 23% - now a complete non-friend) gave you the right to address me in public about "ignoring you" is beyond my comprehension... I am not your boyfriend bitch, you cannot nag me for not spending enough time with you. Not only do you not even approach me with this subject in mind, you do not ever seriously (and awkwardly, I might add) call me out for it in front of fellow acquaintances as if you are attempting to stage some kind of fucking intervention and my "ignoring you" is somehow tantamount to me being a fucking alcoholic's whose abuse of the creature (i.e. drinking) is starting to hurt his friends... To do such a thing is insanity. You are fucking crazy, and whatever duty you think I owe you to treat you as a great friend is completely misplaced - it is against the fucking life-rules. Like I said, we are not good friends. A few things that should have tipped you off? Well, for starters, the fact that I never call, text, speak, interact with or care about you, and continuously ignore your text-messages/phone calls/etc...

And then, while your bitching at me for ignoring you, don't say "Oh, and I've got another bone to pick with you... Why do you return my Bill's calls and not mine?" You want to know why? It's because I AM friends with HIM, but not with you. You are the worst. You are a whale-pig. I don't understand how to make this any fucking clearer. The reason I return his calls is because he and I have climbed the Friendship Ladder together already... We reached the point of friendship by getting drunk together and flagging others over the span of almost 3 years (like all normal friendships are formed). You, on the other hand, were just a fucking freeloader, a Friendship Leech, which drilled its fucking greasy fangs into the lifesblood of my hard-earned friendship and refuses to let go. You are a leech. You suck.

Now, you might ask "Well if you feel that way, why didn't you just talk to Bill about it?" Why? BECAUSE I AM A GOOD FUCKING FRIEND WHO KNOWS THAT BILL AND I ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FRIENDS THAT I CAN BRING UP THE SUBJECT ABOUT HOW MUCH I FUCKING HATE YOU. In fact, because you are so fucking flag-worthy, you are now detracting from his score on my friendship scale because of the fact that he apparently can't keep his bitch on a leash (or in your case, a gorilla cage).

I am the normal one. You are weird. You are flagged.


P.S. My relationship with this "Bill" character is not gay.

Vehicular Flagicide

FLAG = alerting the public to a person's questionable, and thus, flagworthy, character.

You're driving along, talking on your flagworthy blue tooth, and perusing the road for hot chicks and sweet car crashes. But you ask yourself, what type of cars are flaggable and why? Here are your answers:

Ice Cream Truck = No brainer flag. A modern day ice cream truck driver is your modern day pedophile. Beware of the soft serve. Ice cream truck drivers created the "15MPH School Zone Speed Limit," not because they want to sell more ice cream or improve child safety, but because 15 miles per hour is in fact the optimal cruising speed for pedophiles.

Station Wagon = Flaggable if contains rear-facing back seat or built before year 2000.

Mail Truck = No flag here, because mailmen are veterans and veterans like weapons. I am afraid to flag.

Smart Car/Mini Cooper = FLAG. Get an SUV asshole, this is America.

Prius = No flag because Larry David has one.

18 wheelers = FLAG. Have you ever seen a truck stop in middle America? Let me rephrase, have you ever seen a trucker getting a blowjob from a 300 lb tranny at a truck stop in middle America while selling meth out of his glove compartment....me neither.

Disengage Flag?

Sometimes, an engagement will go awry. The couple will think better of the implications of a marriage, for example, they might: consider the heavy legal fees involved in a lengthy divorce, get cold feet, brutally murder a fiancée, whatever their fickle hearts desire. This is hardly something to hold against anyone, in fact the decision to get married is quite possibly taken too lightly in our modern society. Somebody needs a green card, a tax break, or just a steady lay (or from what I hear about married folk, someone from whom they can withhold sex as a bargaining chip). That isn't to say people shouldn't get married, it's just a very tough decision. So occasionally, some party will break off an engagement. It happens. Usually for the best. Think of what you will save in the future and don't worry about your deposit with the caterer, or the stupid invitations or save the dates that you sent out (which no one is impressed with, by the way). Make the right decision for your future. Be selfish. Nobody will begrudge you that...

...until the second time. 

Is breaking an engagement...TWICE, grounds for a RED FLAG? Do the circumstances even matter? Would it make a difference if the person was DUMPED twice, or if they did the dumping? Do all these excuses and arguments fly out the window when the same person can't pull the trigger in the sequel? Are you willing to play the starring role in this trilogy of marital disasters? Or are you the understanding type who can forgive/hope to change a fickle heart? How would you react if you found out your partner pawned two engagement rings? Are you the type of rube to be fleeced into believing you'll be the one to make it to happily-ever-after? Or can you throw this relationship assassin to the curb...RSVP with your comments and your entrée choices...Red Flag +1

Ketchup Flag?

Is this style of Ketchup use a Red Flag? Is this blatant disregard for order a flaggable offense? Why pour ketchup recklessly all over the french fries when making a small pile of ketchup is way more efficient? What does pouring Ketchup all over your fries say about you as a person? Does this make you a fat lazy slob who is too stupid to realize you get more ketchup when you dip each fry? Does this much ketchup banter denote a person with OCD? I hope so. I'm sucking on a heinz packet as a type...

I know this is a pretty timid opener, but I'm trying to heat up the hate slowly but surely...